


"Don't promise just try"

by Madworld



Series: Quiet love [3]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, The Marauders - Fandom
Genre: Angst, M/M, Might be a trigger for people who have self-harmed, Sort Of Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 08:01:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2060325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madworld/pseuds/Madworld





	"Don't promise just try"

A promise broken so many times it is shattered. 

Narrow forearms, wiry but patterned. 

Scars. 

When Sirius looks at them he sees red. 

Trickling. Feels the phantom sting. 

Long shirt sleeves. Jumpers. Always cold. 

Couple’s silence soft and warm. 

Remus informs him he knows. Quietly.

Fingers tighten and clench the flesh of the armchair.

Quick footsteps and Remus is in his lap, pushes at his side, demanding he make room. 

He shifts. 

Remus talks. 

Follows the patterns on Sirius’ waistcoat, feels the delicate framework beneath. 

Sirius starts. Haltingly. 

A voice that cut certain words like glass, drily making witty comments with a quick to break smile for anybody who comes near the emotions he has drowned. 

Remus suggests they go out and talk. 

Open air means freer conversation. 

Mist sits on the lake. 

Pulls them into her arms. 

Silver. 

Tears and salt. 

Raw screams. 

Remus’ heart stutters in his chest as Sirius shouts, tarnished silver running in rivers down his cheeks. Lets him hide in the mist as he throws curses into the lake. The black water drinking in the rage. 

Then the wind drops. 

The fire blows out. 

The life goes and he falls. 

He crumbles and curls up. 

Sobbing. 

And now Remus can approach. 

Holds. 

Wet grass seeps through trousers. 

Mud smeared across soft palms. 

The real world is distant. 

All they can feel is the lips of the other. 

Gentle kisses. Kisses of love. Tasting of salt and anger and sadness. 

But warm and comforting. 

The old promise floats to the surface like a dead body. 

Bloated and grey. Ugly and broken. Used. 

“Don’t promise just try” 


End file.
